


A Long Way Down And Longer Still

by Shaicarus



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Agender Character, I feel NO shame, I'm awful at titles, Multi, One-sided pining, Other, Prosthesis, Recreational Drug Use, Series of One Shots, Unrequited Crush, also my oc is my baby and i went full mary sue, also the title is nonsense, and some of the OCs are purchasable companions, individual chapters will have warnings at the beginning, only loosely beta'd, that list will likely grow in time, this fandom is so relaxing compared to the Big Ones i always get wrapped up in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-06 04:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaicarus/pseuds/Shaicarus
Summary: He can hear the bustle of the main hall by then, and when he rounds the next turn he can see it up ahead. He puts on a burst of speed, ducking his head and hitching the bag higher.With a jaunt in his step, he strolls into the main hall. And then he makes it about three steps before something latches onto his bag like a vise and yanks him to a halt.“Ooooh,” a familiar voice purrs, and he can hear the latch of his bag being undone, “what do we have here?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this ficlet: None, to my knowledge, but I will update this if requested.
> 
> Story time!  
> So, I started playing Fallen London back in...I wanna say 2015? And at the time, one of my best friends had already been playing for a while and so his character Ashley was considerably further along than my Shai. And then we both stopped playing around the same time.  
> And then sometime last year I discovered that my other best friend had started playing, so I got back into it in a big way, and her Daniel and my Shai are now basically BFFs. And now Ashley's player is contemplating getting back into it because I won't stfu about it. But Shai has developed and changed a lot, so we decided to just...complicate their lives to make our lives easier.  
> These first few ficlets will be posted in chronological order, rather than the order they were written in, and then later ficlets will be posted as they're finished with a 'you are here' note re: timeline.
> 
> Anyway, Daniel belongs to [Nicxan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan) and Ashley belongs to [DigitalMoriarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalMoriarty). They're both great. Go love them.  
> Shaicarus is mine, if my username wasn't an indication of that.  
> While I would happily give my eyeteeth to write for Failbetter, I don't own any of Fallen London, blah blah blah disclaimer.

The imp doesn’t like Daniel. Hasn’t liked him from the very beginning. He could probably smell something about him, like a dog or a cat, though he’s less talkative than any cat Daniel has ever met.

And yet, despite all of that, it is the imp that shows up at Daniel’s house in the Flit, and the imp that leads him to the docks. The imp doesn’t say anything–-truthfully, Daniel’s not even sure if he can talk or not–-or even really acknowledge Daniel other than to look over his shoulder and be sure that Daniel is still following, but there is an urgency to his demeanor as he leads the way.

Wolfstack Docks are loud and rowdy and full of zailors and dockhands roughhousing like school children when Daniel and the imp arrive, and they bypass the lot of them, until they reach the end of the last dock, where the familiar, battered steamer bobs silently. The imp pauses on the dock, and when Daniel makes no move, he looks pointedly to the steamer. With unease rising in his gut, Daniel hops aboard.

And there’s no one there. No on one deck. No one in the cabin. No one below deck. No one on top of the cabin. The ship is empty.

Daniel finds a note, though. It’s sitting on the folding table that gets used as a dining table. Ordinarily he wouldn’t think to go through Shai’s things, but Daniel picks up the note and glances over it. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. The note is utterly illegible, and he sets it back down when he only manages to make out a few vaguely familiar characters.

When he turns around, the imp is peering fretfully over the edge of the ship, and Daniel shrugs broadly. “There’s no one here,” he offers, and the imp seems to wilt as he backs away from the ship again.

From above them, there comes a caw, and they both look up. Perched on four of the lampposts are a series of albino ravens, dazed and pale, and a single mercury black raven to lead the unkindness. It watches Daniel with sharp eyes and croaks out another noise, before it takes to the air. Daniel takes off after it at a run, though he doesn’t need to worry about losing it. The entire flock pauses periodically, on roofs and eaves and overhangs, watching Daniel and the imp curiously.

They’re well into the wealthier part of the city when at last Daniel sees Dresden ahead, sitting on the porch of a townhouse and smoking his pipe. He nods towards the front door, still hanging open behind him. The imp pauses on the sidewalk, but Daniel continues inside.

He has heard of Ashley, vaguely. In occasional mentions, tidbits of conversation, rumors on street corners of a not-quite-human… _being_ , who makes one Shaicarus Ilthanuel look as harmless and meek as a mouse. Daniel has never met Ashley or even learned any details about them, but he has heard just enough to know that he probably doesn’t want to.

He knows they are Shai’s very special person, and that they dote on Shai in a way that is sort of charming save for the way that Daniel himself would have found it completely overbearing. That is the beginning and the end of his knowledge of Ashley, though he supposes the house he’s cautiously stepping into is theirs.

Or…was theirs? It doesn’t look like it belongs to anyone right now. It’s empty. No lights. The windows are shuttered. There’s no furniture or trinkets or knick-knacks. The walls don’t hum or creak; the gas has been shut off. It’s just…empty, as if there had never been anyone there.

Well, almost empty.

Daniel peers into what must have been a parlor at some point, and finds Shai in the middle of the room. They’re curled on the floor, the claws of their prosthetic hand clenched into the floor hard enough to leave furrows in the polished wood, and their flesh hand clenched in their hair as they bow inwards, towards their knees. They are still and utterly silent, until Daniel lays a hand on their shoulder and they snarl, “ _Don’t fucking touch me_ ,” with such savage vehemence that Daniel trips over himself in his haste to back up and lands on his backside on the floor.

Shai takes a deep breath, and their shoulders tremble as they let it out. Slowly, they uncurl and sit up, stiff and jerky as a windup doll. Their hand unclenches from their hair, to instead fall back and curl limply against the back of their neck.

“My apologies,” they offer after a moment, trying for their usual light not-quite-sing-song tone. “That was…uncalled for.”

“It’s–-fine,” Daniel replies, arranging himself so he’s more comfortably seated. They sit in silence for a time, until finally Daniel asks, “What’s going on?”

Shai doesn’t answer immediately, staring down at the floor as they trace the tip of one claw over one of the gouges they made, mismatched eyes distant and unfocused. Eventually, they admit haltingly, “I’m…not fully certain? But…” They gesture around with one hand, fingers outspread to take in the entirety of the empty house. “I do believe I’ve been abandoned, Daniel.”

They laugh after that, a damp, tittering sound, their hand falling to their lap. Daniel lifts a hand to reach towards them, only to think better of it and instead clench his hands together in his lap. Instead, they sit in silence, until eventually Daniel wonders, “What will you do now?”

“What am I  _supposed_  to do?” they ask peevishly, before they shake their head briefly and drop back to their lilt to point out, “My options are limited to ‘carry on.’ Until I translate that babble they left me, I don’t even know where they ran off to.”

“Couldn’t someone help you find them?” Daniel asks, baffled. He stills when Shai glances at him, bemused.

“Who?” they ask simply. “I’m not exactly swimming in friends, Daniel.”

They look around as Daniel puzzles over that tidbit, until finally they heave themself back to their feet. “I suppose I should leave before a neighbor comes to chase me off,” they muse, turning to head towards the door, booted steps echoing off the empty walls.

Daniel scrambles back to his feet and lopes after them, calling, “Hey, wait for me!” as he does.

Shai has a key in their breast pocket. They lock the door behind them as they leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, maybe click [this link](https://notanicequeen.tumblr.com/post/167109895346/reminder)?  
> And if you wanna poke Shai on Fallen London, feel free. They're just called Shaicarus, and I pretty exclusively respond in-character there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this ficlet: implications of death, also resurrection  
> this chapter was written in second person. don't get used to it.  
> and yes, Shai lost their other arm between the last ficlet and this one.

You breathe for the first time in... probably an hour. You aren't sure, but you were on the ball today. You had a weasel and the chess match was in your favor pretty early on, so you don't think you've been gone that long. You open your eyes and blink at the ground and it takes a moment before you realize you aren't actually on the ground because you're propped up against the wall and leaning on a shoulder. Daniel's shoulder, a glance to the left confirms. How sweet.

Everything sort of prickles as your blood starts flowing again, but you're short three natural limbs anyway, so it's only minimally annoying and you ignore it as you sit up, joints popping. "D'nyone steal my shit?" And, oh, that's lovely. You're still slurring like a drunk. Dresden snorts from where he's guarding the mouth of the alley.

Daniel manages to roll his eyes without looking up from his book. "Would I be this calm if someone chased me off, looted your corpse, and left with your affects? Or if Dresden had to duel someone?"

"Dresden would never," is your response. "I don't pay him that well." You don't actually need to look at your assassin to know he's nodding earnestly. "Point taken, though."

"Are you always this relaxed when you die?" Daniel wonders, finally closing his book. It looks gothic. That doesn't tell you much, honestly.

"Should I fret?" You stretch, gears in your arms realigning as you do. "After the first one, they all seem pretty routine."

Daniel sighs and hits himself in the forehead with his book as he groans, "Why do I talk to you? You're so depressing."

"Because I offer to knife people for you." Finally, you get to your feet. You still can't quite feel the fleshy one because everything is still all needly, but you only almost stumble face first into a wall, so it's fine. "And I let you raid my rosty gold."

"You have enough of the stuff that I'm not sure that counts as any sort of generosity, but fine, I'll take it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, maybe click [this link](https://notanicequeen.tumblr.com/post/167109895346/reminder)?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this ficlet: none to my knowledge, but I'll update this if requested
> 
> I pestered nicxan for fic prompts and she wanted to see what would happen if Shai caught Daniel during one of his apparently many robberies on the Brass Embassy

Was the coast clear? It looked like it was clear. No one to the left. No one to the right. Daniel hefted his bag higher on his shoulders and took off at a jog. Two bars of brass rattled against each other, weighting down the fistful of contracts and keeping them from fluttering away as he ran.

He ducked behind a corner as he came to the next intersection of hallways, and he poked his head out to peer around carefully. He could see a pair of devils at the end of one hall, but they were both pretty involved in their conversation, and it seemed unlikely that they would notice him. Either way, he hopped across the distance to the next hallway, clearing it in a single bound.

Two more hallways to go, and he would be back in the main hall, where it was…less unusual to see humans wandering around. After all, plenty of people could have business at the embassy.

A door in front of him opened and he ground to a halt, pressing himself to the wall, flattening himself out so he was hidden behind the suddenly open door. He held his breath, and when the door closed and the deviless who opened it carried on in the opposite direction without so much as glancing at him, he sighed it out unsteadily.

He had gotten used to close calls, but that didn’t mean they got any less unpleasant whenever they happened. He stayed where he was until she disappeared around the next corner, and then he peered over his shoulder just to be safe and took off at a jog again.

He could hear the bustle of the main hall by then, and when he rounded the next turn he could see it up ahead. He put on a burst of speed, ducking his head and hitching the bag higher.

With a jaunt in his step, he strolled into the main hall. And then he made it about three steps before something latched onto his bag like a vise and yanked him to a halt.

“Ooooh,” a familiar voice purred, and he could hear the latch of his bag being undone, “what do we have here?”

Daniel heaved a sigh and shrugged the bag off without a fight, letting Shai rummage through it to their heart’s content. He focused on the wall across the hall, cringing when the hall suddenly rang with the sound of both brass bars being dropped to the floor with a clatter.

“Not much of a haul,” Shai tutted, and Daniel could hear their foot tapping and the rustling of the bag.

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed in bemusement. Had they…missed the contents at the bottom of the bag, then?

“For such a paltry amount, I suppose I can let it go with just a warning,” they sighed, and finally Daniel risked a glance over his shoulder. Shai looked…less than amused, the corners of their mouth pulled down in a thin frown. One eyebrow rose when they caught Daniel looking.

And the imp was staring at him from behind Shai’s legs.

Quickly, Daniel looked forward again.

Shai caught one of Daniel’s forearms and gave it a tug, so they could hook the bag over it. They gave Daniel’s arm one last pat, before grabbing him by the shoulders and marching him forward, towards the embassy doors.

“I would be careful, though,” they carried on, in that same liltingly pleasant tone. “Next time you might run into loss prevention, and they’re not nearly as friendly as I am. As it is, I already have to decide if I feel up to doing the paperwork on this incident. More of a bother than it’s really worth, if you ask me.” They slowed as they neared the doors, and their grip on Daniel’s shoulders tightened. When they next spoke, it was from right beside Daniel’s ear.

“Do try not to make my life more complicated, Danny boy. It won’t go well for either of us.”

The doors were open already, in a parody of welcoming. All the easier for Shai to simply shove Daniel through the doors. He stayed where he was at the top of the steps for a long moment, listening to the sound of Shai’s heels retreating behind him. It wasn’t until a devil in a hurry nearly bowled him over that Daniel jerked back into motion, jogging down the stairs to the street. He followed the cobbles until he came to an alley, and he ducked into it to yank the bag open. He stared down at the contents, the small pile of contracts still sitting at the bottom of the bag.

He blinked slowly, before he realized he was staring down into a bag in an alley in the middle of the day just outside the Brass Embassy. He was likely to start attracting a crowd at any moment, and he snapped the bag closed again before shrugging it back onto one of his shoulders.

“Ey? Well?”

Daniel nearly jumped out of his coat when one of his rats scurried down the nearest gutter to jump onto his shoulder.

“‘n'thing good?”

“Contracts,” Daniel answered, after a brief shake of his head to pull himself back to the present. He started walking. “I think I need to find a different route next time, though. Ran into a bit of a complication this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, maybe click [this link](https://notanicequeen.tumblr.com/post/167109895346/reminder)?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this ficlet: none

Dinner is gone, save for the last few scraps, and they’re both finishing off the last of the wine. Daniel sighs in contentment and leans back in his chair, only a  _little_  off balance by the rocking of the steamer.

“Are there cooking classes down here?” he wonders dryly. “If that’s the stress cooking I don’t even want to know what happens when you cook normally.”

Shai smiles, tight-lipped and crooked, not quite as sharp as their smile usually is. With the hand not cradling their mug—they have no wineglasses and so a pair of slightly dented tin mugs are standing in—they make a lazy gesture, one gilded claw pointing upwards. “I learned up there,” they explain, mismatched eyes glancing upwards briefly, though all there is to see is the ceiling of the ship's cabin.

“What were you even like up there?” Daniel wonders, idly swishing his mug back and forth. It’s not a topic that comes up often. If there’s a way back, then neither of them have found it, and where they both are now is… something like home, at any rate. And  _who_  they both are now is… well, another story entirely.

Their smile sharpens slightly, but not as it does when they plan to go straight for the throat. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” they reply, and they leave it at that, evidently intent on keeping it to themself.

Daniel’s nose wrinkles slightly as his expression falls into a scowl. “Not even a hint?” he wonders, kicking at Shai’s ankle under the table. “You’re the host. You’re supposed to entertain me.”

“I already fed you,” Shai sniffs, waving the question away with a flippant gesture. “Besides, I think I’d prefer to keep you guessing.” Finally, they grin, jagged and toothy but not quite so threatening as Daniel has seen in the past. “Because you never will, and even if you did, no one would believe you.”

Slowly, Daniel sighs, not quite in defeat. “Cat burglar,” he tries blandly. “Or, no, wait. Jewel thief. Heist planner? Knife sharpener? Or maybe…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, maybe click [this link](https://notanicequeen.tumblr.com/post/167109895346/reminder)?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this ficlet: mentions of death and blood

“Have you ever wondered,” Shai asks as soon as Daniel is below the steamer's deck, in a musing tone that seems fuzzy and distant, “if perhaps we don’t truly die as some sort of punishment?” They’re coated in blood, absentmindedly tapping the blade of a knife against their prosthetic leg, and there’s a vial with the gleam of cantigaster venom in their other hand.

Daniel’s alarm shows on his face, evidently, as Shai offers him a narrow smile and a light, soothing, “None of it’s mine, and I don’t intend for any of it to be.”

Daniel doesn’t feel especially comforted, and after a moment, Shai sets the blade and the vial down on the floor, making a show of nudging both of them away with their boot. At last Daniel approaches, not quite  _warily_  but ill at ease nonetheless.

“Do you think everyone down here deserves to be punished?” he wonders, his thoughts meandering back to Shai’s question.

They shrug broadly, hands lifting as they do, palms to the ceiling. “Who am I to say?” They wave the matter off with a flick of their claws. “It wasn’t important, I suppose.”

“You killed someone,” Daniel points out, his gaze darting down to the knife and the vial.

“Multiple someones,” Shai returns dryly, their chin dipping once as they nod. “For a friend. Don’t worry; they had it coming.” Their smile broadens until Daniel can see their teeth.

“And your friend…?” he asks slowly, because he can tell there is  _some_  part of this story that he’s missing still.

Shai is silent at first, smile turning placid again as their gaze drifts towards the window. It takes a few moments, the steamer rocking calmly all the while, before they admit, “Alice is dead.” Their mouth twists with something like irritation, though their easy smile is back in place again in seconds. “I feel very used right now, Danny.”

With a slow sigh, Daniel reaches out, clasping their shoulder with one hand. He makes no comment on the Cheesemonger or her bidding, and he asks instead, “Would you like some help getting the blood out?”

A bark of laughter is his reward, sharp and startled, and Shai’s grin is back in full force. “That would be lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, maybe click [this link](https://notanicequeen.tumblr.com/post/167109895346/reminder)?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this ficlet: mentions of death, mentions of amnesia
> 
> fun fact: Daniel is married to a character named Alex and I didn't know that when I picked Shai's fiance's name.

Shai asked for the date that morning, in a foggy, distracted tone, and they had hummed as if they already knew and were simply hoping they were wrong when Daniel told them. Then they simply nodded and continued on their way.

The two of them meet later that evening, and whatever had been bothering Shai that morning seems to have passed. Or at least they seem fine at first. It’s as Daniel is prodding—playfully, it’s become something of a game—at details of Shai’s past (“Can we at least play fair and turn it into a game of Hot Or Cold?”) that they snap, at least in as much as Shai ever snaps.

“You keep asking and asking and  _asking_  and I don’t get why you  _care_.” Shai drags one hand through their hair, heedless of the way the claws’ joints must pull at it. They’re pacing now, like a cat cornered in an alley.

Daniel fidgets and scuffs a boot against the cobblestones. “Just… I  _don’t_  remember. It’s… sort of nice hearing about it from people who do.”

Something in Shai’s posture cracks and their shoulders sag, as if the weight of the brass and the gold and the leather has only just caught up to them. They sigh slowly and state, after a long moment, “Today is my anniversary. Would have been, rather.” They smile at the cobbles, fangless and mirthless, and it seems like they’re looking somewhere else entirely. “I was a home-maker. I cooked, I cleaned, I tended to the animals. I kept the house comfortable and running like clockwork while Alex was at work. My gardens were beautiful; Alex told me so all the time. We were to be married in December; my mother-in-law was enamored with the idea of a Christmas wedding and neither of us had the heart to deny her that.”

Daniel feels, all at once, as if he’s listening to something he shouldn’t be hearing, like a diary being a read aloud. “Shai—“

“And then someone took my Alex away,” Shai carries on, “and I couldn’t let that stand, now could I? And… a lot has happened since then. You know some of it and can probably guess at a lot of it.” They pause, staring at their hands, claws gleaming in the flickering lamplight. “I admit, I’m not sure my Alex would even recognize me anymore.”

They fall silent, and for a long time, neither of them say a word. Finally, Shai laughs, a low and joyless noise that sounds as if it’s covering something else.

“Shai?”

They glance up, and for a moment Daniel wishes they looked mad; wishes they looked affronted at Daniel prying. Instead, they simply wonder, “Might we change the subject now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, maybe click [this link](https://notanicequeen.tumblr.com/post/167109895346/reminder)?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: loss of a soul, depression-like thought processes, brief suicidal ideation
> 
> you ever write something where you just plan on using an NPC as a plot device, and by the end of it you ship your OC with an NPC way more than you ever meant to?  
> yeeeeaaaah...

When Daniel gets the note, he knows already that something has gone wrong. He recognizes Shai’s scrawl, but it says simply ’ _See me. Townhouse._ ’ Daniel knows they have the townhouse almost exclusively for entertaining particularly snobbish guests. Adelaide waits as he reads the note over two more times, and it’s only once she starts tapping her foot that Daniel cottons onto, “Wait,  _right now_?”

Adelaide shrugs expansively and flips her braids over her shoulder. “It’s a big thing,” she replies, sounding like she’s caught between a complicated mixture of concerned and blasé.

Daniel leaves the note on his coffee table and follows the pirate out of the house.

Even knowing in advance, it’s  _weird_  to see Shai standing on the townhouse’s front step, instead of waiting on the steamer. He’s heard them wax poetic about the rocking of that grimy old boat a dozen times.

And there are…other things that are different, as well. Off, in a sense. Like looking in a mirror and knowing someone else who just happens to look identical is looking back.

Shai is holding a rolled up scroll of parchment tied with a gleaming gold ribbon, tapping one end of it on their hip. Their smile is thin and perfunctory and they hold out the scroll without so much as a flourish as they admit, “I’ve run into a spot of trouble.”

Daniel knows what it is even before he unrolls it to read it. “Shai, you  _didn’t_ ,” he groans, rolling the contract back up just for something to do with his hands.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Shai protests, though their indignation seems…flat, as if the feeling has been smothered under a pillow until it fell unconscious. They hold out a hand and Daniel hands the contract back with a jerk, and Shai’s claws curl around it.

“Okay, so–-what do you need me for?” Daniel asks, dragging his hands through his hair, frazzled. “I mean, my connections in the embassy aren’t exactly–-”

“Nothing like that,” Shai replies, not even giving Daniel a chance to finish. “I just need someone to make sure I stay on track.”

Daniel blinks. Cocks his head slowly to one side. “…Okay?”

“I’m going to get it back,” Shai states, matter-of-fact. “And while I’m not particularly inclined to care for much at the moment, I know there are things I would be most disappointed to have let slip by the wayside once I’m back within my skin. So I need people willing to keep me on those paths, even if it’s simply rote repetition for the time being.”

The pieces are starting to fit together. “Okay,” Daniel agrees slowly. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good. I’ll be here for the time being,” they reply, gesturing towards the townhouse. “It seems more practical, at least for the moment. Would you like to come in?”

“No thanks,” Daniel answers before the question has even fully processed. It makes sense, though. This Shai is strange and unsettling, and while Daniel will do what he can to bring the proper Shai back, he feels little inclination to linger beyond that.

Shai inclines their chin in a brief nod, before they turn and step back inside, Adelaide following on their heels. Daniel lingers on the step for a moment before he begins to make his way back to the Flit.

**

They will get their soul back. Shai knows this. Either they will, or Dresden will, or Adelaide will, or perhaps even someone else. They aren’t sure who it will truly be, but they know that it will happen. They’ve always made a hobby of surrounding themself with people equally as tenacious and with the same penchant for loyalty. They will get their soul back at some nebulous point in the future, and in the meantime Daniel and everyone else will keep them moving on the right track.

It’s practical, really. It would be a shame to get their soul back, only for their first experience to be disappointment because they let everything fall apart while they were…indisposed. They can’t muster up much care for their class or their job or the people who call them Professor and actually mean it. Even thinking of how far they are, still, from the one who killed their Alex does little but set off a single, solitary spark of irritation. They have books and pages and bottles and boons handed to them straight from the Masters, and they may as well be trinkets just then, and thinking of the letters of the Correspondence doesn’t ignite any fires (figurative or literal).

It’s…tiring. Everything is tiring, suddenly, and they would rather go to sleep. But Victus is staring at them mournfully from the stairs, and they know that if they neglected the kitten they would never forgive themself later on down the line.

They stand in their entryway for a time, staring down at their contract in their hand, glim-tipped claws bright against the aged parchment.

Finally, they set the contract down on the nearest end table and they follow Victus up the stairs. She bounds and jumps and tumbles around their feet as she usually does, and they scarcely even notice.

**

Daniel steps into the townhouse without knocking or announcing himself. It was never a habit he had picked up in the past, and he’s felt no particular need to start now, when he pops by twice a day.

He pauses in the entryway, head cocked to one side. He can hear Shai speaking to someone in the parlor. That, on its own, is nothing unusual, but Daniel doesn’t recognize the voice of whoever Shai is speaking with. It’s certainly not Adelaide’s or Dresden’s.

“You just used to be so much livelier before,” the stranger sighs, and he sounds as if he’s pouting.

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you,” Shai replies, only mildly concerned by their guest’s distress. “You wanted this outcome, too, if I recall.”

“Shaicarus,” the stranger scolds mildly. “Be fair.”

There’s a slow sigh, then, “My apologies. You at least had the good graces to ask before trying, and you didn’t hypnotize away the chance of a ‘no.’”

“No offense taken,” the stranger replies, and the parlor lapses into silence, though Daniel can still hear them moving.

Finally, footsteps head towards the entryway, and Daniel practically leaps out of the way when a devil steps through the doorway from the parlor. His suit is tailored, even if his cravat and his waistcoat are…artfully clashing. He looks remarkably human, all things considered, save for the slits of his pupils, and when he calls over his shoulder, “You have company,” Daniel catches a glimpse of fangs and a forked tongue.

The devil offers Daniel a dazzling grin before stepping past him and heading out the door. Daniel shakes off his stupor after only a second and hurries into the parlor. If someone doesn’t prod Shai into putting together a lesson plan it’s not likely to happen, and he knows Dresden and Adelaide are elsewhere for the day.

**

“He doesn’t like you.” Shai offers the words plainly, staring up at the ceiling. The floor of the study is not the most comfortable place, but it’s where they are and they can’t be particularly bothered to put themself somewhere else just yet.

The devil peers down at them, one eyebrow arching. When they don’t move, the devil concedes the stare-off to instead idly peruse one of the bookshelves. He’s read more books than Shai has even heard of, likely by at least threefold, but they don’t call him on it.

“Your mousey friend?” the devil questions eventually, wryly amused. He glances over his shoulder, but Shai is still staring at the ceiling.

“Daniel,” Shai corrects, as sharp as they ever are at that point. As sharp as they can manage. “He’s not a big on devils. Or any of…all that, really.”

“How _do_ you find your friends?” the devil wonders, returning to the center of the room to peer down at Shai on the floor again.

“Happenstance, mostly,” they answer placidly. “Or sex. That was common, too, though not in this case.”

The devil’s eyebrows rise, their amusement plain. “He does know you’re a  _Trickster_  on your off days, yes?”

“I may have neglected to bring it up,” they deadpan, and the devil barks out an incredulous laugh.

**

Daniel should probably start knocking. The devil is there again when he walks through the front door, by all appearances trying to teach one of the dimmer ravens to dance for a handful of dog kibble. Shai is nowhere in sight, but it’s not really surprising. The townhouse is too big for its own good on most days.

“You’ll likely be waiting for a while,” the devil remarks eventually, as Daniel shifts back and forth on his feet in the entryway. “They’re busy, and I have matters to discuss with them.”

“I’m not even sure you should be here,” Daniel grouses in return, before he can quite keep the words from tumbling out. His hands twitch, as if to cover his mouth, before he steels himself and instead shoves his hands into his pockets. “I mean, they’re in this situation because of another devil.”

The devil’s eyebrows rise, though he doesn’t seem surprised by the outburst, and slowly he grins. “True enough,” he agrees. “But do you somehow doubt they were aware of all of the possibilities when they decided to invite us in? Ah, yes, I can see it now.” He spreads his hands in front of himself, as if to present a billboard. “University Professor Consorts With Devils, Somehow Forgot What Devils Do.”

Daniel flusters, his face heating as senseless syllables trip out of his mouth, before he manages, “I just don’t want anyone making anything worse, is all.”

The devil tucks his hands together neatly behind his back, and his smile is impish as he points out, “You don’t even know what my business here is.”

“I know enough about how devils–-”

The devil clicks his tongue. “Now, now. Let’s not be  _insensitive_.”

Daniel rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply before he hears Shai’s cane on the tile in the hallway. They lean around the doorframe a moment later, watching silently until the devil trails after them out of the room.

Daniel grumbles under his breath and stomps into the parlor to wait.

**

They should probably explain what’s going on to everyone else. Dresden knows; he lives in the room upstairs. Adelaide…might know? They aren’t sure. She’s gone often enough that it’s conceivable. But they know that Daniel doesn’t know.

But they suspect it won’t be the best idea to fill him in. He knows Shai is attempting to reclaim their soul, though he probably assumes Shai is doing it from a considerably more sideways angle. And they suspect that if Daniel knew the truth, he would not believe it. Or he would not believe the sincerity, at any rate. It’s understandable. Little about Shai is actually sincere. Daniel has known them long enough to know this, and to know that it tends to extend to the company they keep.

So they suppose they shall just keep it to themself, at least for the time being. They can explain it all later. Afterwards.

As it is, they have no real motivation to care at the moment.

**

Daniel can’t say he feels particularly at ease knowing the devil is there, but even so, he needs to smother a laugh behind his hands as he listens. He can hear the devil’s conversation with Shai drifting down the stairs.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” the devil scolds, though he still sounds remarkably cheerful. “Either you at the very least get your sorry soulless backside out of bed, or I’m going to start singing. And you’re the one who graciously informed me that I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then finally, resigned, “At least help me put my arms on.”

“Oh, no,” the devil tuts, sarcasm dripping from his words so thickly Daniel worries it might eat its way through the floor like acid, “I was just going to stand here and watch you wiggle fruitlessly.”

“To be fair, it wouldn’t be so different from that time you–-”

“Ah, ah, ah~” the devil practically sings. “Not with company in the house.”

“Oh. Is it Daniel?”

It’s strange, still, even after weeks, to hear Shai call him Daniel again, rather than some sort of pet name. He doesn’t dwell on it, instead calling up the stairs, “Please don’t start talking about your sex life while I’m within earshot.”

The devil pokes his head around the edge of the top of the stairs, grinning toothily as he points out, “Strictly speaking, you’re intruding, so it would be your own fault.”

“I have a blanket invitation,” Daniel returns primly. He hears a thump through the floor and tacks on, “Go help them with their limbs. I’m staying down here until I know everyone is wearing pants.”

The devil clicks his tongue, feigning disappointment. “A coward’s way out,” he sighs, though he leans away from the stairs once again.

Daniel flips through the notes for one of Shai’s lectures as he waits.

**

They’re supposed to be grading. Shai knows this. The reports are in front of them, and if they cock their head right they can concede that some of them are interesting, some of them are hysterically awful, and most of them are simply…present. It doesn’t even particularly bother them to think of their students that way, even knowing they had nearly ruined the professor of astrological confinement’s career for the same slight.

They read the words on the page, and the words make sense, but that is it. They are tired, and they don’t care enough about the words to keep reading, and the only reason they do is because Adelaide is leaning in the doorway, idly picking her nails clean with her kukri. She will object if they try to shirk their duties, so they duck towards the pages once again.

They are tired, more than anything, and when at last they finish with the reports they are fully aware of just how bland their feedback is. But it’s all they can drum up just then, so they pile the reports into a neat stack and set it aside, fold their arms on the desk, and fall asleep right there.

The dreams, bizarrely, remain unaltered. Or at least the content of them does. They can’t really bring themself to wake up in a fit halfway through, though.

**

Shai is…frustrated, in as much as they really get frustrated anymore. Letters of the Correspondence are scattered on papers all around them on the floor, Shai kneeling in the middle of them like an offering at a shrine.

“Having trouble?” Daniel wonders, peering cautiously into the room, looking through his fingers because the last time he got a good look at the Correspondence he barfed on the rug. He’s fairly sure the imp still hasn’t forgiven him for that.

Shai hums a low note but doesn’t answer immediately, instead carefully reordering a few of the pages. Some of them begin smoking at the edges, and Dresden is already standing nearby with a bucket of water, though none of them properly combust just yet.

“Translating them is as much a feeling as it is anything else,” Shai eventually answers, picking up a page, only to pause and rethink it and set it back down. “I’m running rather low on those of late,” they point out. “Feelings, I mean. I use most of them up by about noon.”

“What, like a well?” Daniel asks, bemused. He can’t really bring himself to feel as silly as he probably should, talking from behind his hand while he hides behind the corner.

“A bit,” Shai agrees. “I save them up for the university,” they supply, absently tracing the tip of one claw over a character. A spark jumps off the metal and they jerk their hand back. “To pretend,” they clarify. “The others there wouldn’t take it well if they suspected.” There’s a thoughtful beat, and they tip their head back, gaze trailing towards the ceiling. “Some of my students likely suspect, but they aren’t much to worry about. Their loyalty has been earned.”

Daniel’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to say to that just then, and it’s a moot point shortly enough, as Shai’s attention drifts back to the pages scattered around them. They observe, with something like muzzled irritation, “I can barely even read what I already translated myself.”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think Dresden can read any of it,” Daniel supplies.

Across the parlor and looking slightly queasy, Dresden shifts the bucket to one hand so he can flip Daniel off.

“There is that,” Shai agrees, and Dresden very visibly reins in his desire to dump the bucket of water over Shai’s head.

**

It has been weeks. A couple months, probably, but they haven’t really been keeping track. It seems like every day they have a to-do list that is a mile long, and they can never quite recall why most of it is important or why they ever  _elected_  to stay so busy.

Once, just to see what would happen, Daniel asked them about their Alex and they could scarcely even recall who that was.

Everyone is more than a little concerned, and they can’t even figure out why their to-do list matters, instead doing it dutifully, day after day, simply because they know they’ll be hounded if they don’t.

They’re fairly sure they caught Dresden chasing a journalist away from the door the other day, eager to get a scoop on where they’ve been lately. They’ll likely be outraged at the audacity later, but for now it’s just…something that happened.

Shai can’t help but to wonder, every so often, if eventually it will just be too late, and getting their soul back will make no difference. The words  _well, what would be the point of it all, then?_ scratch at their mind, and they recall the vial of cantigaster venom still sealed in a cupboard. But it seems rather unlikely, really. They’re fairly sure contracts would be less of a big deal if souls could still burn themselves up when they weren’t actually in use.

Perhaps it’s best if they just think of something else for the time being. Adelaide will be through the door at any moment, after all, and she’s sure to have something for them to do.

**

There’s a knock on the townhouse door, and when Shai opens it the devil is standing there, holding a bundle to his chest, wrapped in one of his gaudier scarves. Shai reaches out carefully, plucking the bundle from the devil’s hands and then tucking their rolled up contract into the devil’s front pocket. The devil arches one wry eyebrow.

With a few tugs, the bundle falls open, and Shai is holding a squat, unadorned glass jar in their hand. They hold it up to eye level, inspecting it for a moment, though it looks largely identical to every other soul jar, and they have seen many. They inspect it for only a moment before they pull the lid off and lift it to their lips.

They tip their head back, and a shudder chases itself down their spine as they down it in a few quick gulps. Slowly, they straighten back up…and not especially much happens. At least until the jar abruptly falls from their grip, shattering on the step. Their back straightens carefully.

Slowly, Shai grins, toothsome and shark-like. Scarf still tangled in their grip, they reach for the devil, tugging him forward by the lapels. When they kiss, it is not a gentle intimacy, and it’s a long moment before either of them can speak again.

“We’ve been over this,” the devil says, sounding slightly huffy. “If anyone is going to take it, it’s going to be me, and it’s going to be because you handed it to me. It’s not any  _fun_  if someone just plucks it out like a ripe strawberry.”

“A pleasant image,” Shai assures him wryly, smoothing the devil’s jacket with one hand. “But thank you, all the same.” Their grin gentles just slightly at the edges, words softening in a way that they rarely ever do.

“Just try not to get used to it,” the devil grouses. “It’s rather the opposite of my job description, and you would not  _believe_  the paperwork,” he grumbles, reaching to pluck his scarf from Shai’s grasp as he does.

Shai pulls their hand back and up, holding the scarf just out of reach. It’s rather easy to be taller than the devil in four inch heels, after all. The devil pouts, but he makes no further attempts to take the scarf back, save for a sulky, “You won’t even wear it.”

“That’s because you have horrible taste,” Shai replies pleasantly, as they tuck the scarf into their vest for safe keeping. “But I demand souvenirs and you didn’t think to bring me any.”

The devil rolls his eyes, and he glances pointedly at the glass smashed across the step. Shai is disinclined to take the statement back.

The devil reaches up, cupping Shai’s chin affectionately between his thumb and forefinger. “I suppose I should take my leave for the evening.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Do try not to get into any further trouble for the time being.”

“No promises,” Shai sing-songs in return, linking their hands together behind their back. “But I suppose I shall at least put in the effort.”

With one final roll of his eyes, the devil releases Shai’s chin and backs up, stepping down from the porch. He’s on his way just a moment later.

**

The imp is silent as he leads Daniel to the docks. A rather rude sort of silence. Daniel knew the imp hadn’t forgiven him for barfing on the rug. He’s spared from needing to dwell on the matter, though, when they slow to a halt in front of a familiar, battered steamer.

Daniel looks around quickly, and then looks up, to see Shai sitting casually on top of the steamer’s cabin, one leg crossed over the other and a dented tin mug in one hand. They’re still wearing their university robe, albeit unlaced and hanging open over their vest.

“Evening, zailor,” Shai greets, grinning like a barracuda. They lift their mug high and waggle it in the air, until the wine inside slops over their hand. “Can I tempt you?”

Daniel is grinning before he’s even aware of it, and he hops from the dock to the steamer’s deck and climbs up to the top of the cabin. Shai has a second mug there already, and the bottle tucked behind their elbow.

“A toast?” Daniel wonders, holding the second mug as Shai pours a healthy amount into it.

“Nh. Nothing off the top of my head,” Shai sighs, head lolling back as they lean back on one arm. “A thank you, more like,” they add, sliding Daniel a sidelong glance. They smile crookedly, just a hint of serrated sharpness visible at the corner.

Daniel grins in return, both hands curling around his mug. “We’ll call it all squared away,” he returns, “if you promise to never let that happen again.”

Shai scoffs and brings their mug to their chest. “I don’t make promises,” they huff, and it’s a lie and Daniel knows it’s a lie, so he takes it as the tentative agreement it’s meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, maybe click [this link](https://notanicequeen.tumblr.com/post/167109895346/reminder)?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: none
> 
> this one takes place before any of the others so far; before Ashley left. I asked Jim what I should write and he said 'trying to get something back from the drownies.'

The surface of the water was calm. It often was. The oily coating that gave it its sheen didn’t really allow for significant waves. But it was all a ruse. Shai knew this well. Not necessarily from their  _own_  personal experience, but from the personal experiences of people far less fortunate than they were.

They crouched on the edge of the dock, a long pole clutched in both hands. There was a nasty hook on one end of it, rusted and dull. They watched the placid surface of the water, looking for just a glimmer of their target.

“What are you doing?”

Ashley dropped down to sit beside them, legs folded, fingers steepled, and elbows on their knees.

Shai was quiet at first, until–ah, there it was. They plunged the hooked end of the pole into the water, and it sank below the surface with a quiet  _sploop._ An instant later, hands were grabbing at it, trying to wrestle it from their grip. Shai’s hold on it the pole tightened, and they smacked it against the nearest drownie’s face and sent it drifting away.

“Fishing,” they answered plainly, eyes narrowing slightly as they focused on the water. They waggled the pole back and forth, and the hook very nearly caught on their target before it drifted just out of range.

Ashley peered carefully over the edge of the dock, watching as the water churned while the drownies swam back and forth. Finally, they wondered slowly, “For what? Dare I ask.”

With a grunt of effort, Shai hauled the pole out of the water, only to spear it straight back down a few feet to the side. A drownie shrieked and lunged out of the way.

“A thief got shot earlier and dropped his sack off the dock while he was busy dying,” they replied, tone distracted. “Because I suppose some people just have no care for what happens with their things. So I want it.” They stirred the pole in a circle to dislodge the hands yanking at it and to discourage the drownie trying to steadily gnaw the pole in half.

Ashley was silent for a moment, watching with quiet interest. Eventually, as Shai hefted the pole and plunged it back in again, Ashley pointed out, “I don’t think this is the most efficient method.”

Shai scowled at them sidelong, but they didn’t get a chance to retort before there was a sharp crack as the pole snapped in half. The hooked end sank into the water, and Shai fell back with a squawk, catching themself on their elbows. They could see the top of a sodden head lift out of the water, along with several grasping hands.

Finally, they pointed out wryly, “If you would like to take the more direct route, you’re more than welcome to try.”

Tellingly, Ashley made no move to hop into the water as the surface gradually calmed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: blood, limb loss
> 
> this one takes place between chapters one and two

It’s late enough to be early when Daniel gets up, stumbling down the stairs to the front door because it sounds like there’s a drunken rhinoceros hammering on it. He wrenches it open, mouth open to say something undoubtedly rude and accusatory, but the words die on his tongue.

“Oh, good,” Shai muses, tone light and lilting and pleasant. “You’re home.” And then their eyes roll back into their head and they wilt. Daniel catches them at the last instant and drags them inside to the couch.

He has only a moment to fret over what he’s supposed to do, because Shai is unlikely to stop bleeding purely to give Daniel a moment to center himself and reviving from death is  _remarkably hard_  if there’s no blood for the heart to pump.

Their forearm—the flesh one—is gone. Or at least most of it is. There is a stump of it left, a few inches past the elbow. But by and large it’s gone. There is a scarf—once garishly bright, now mostly red—tied tight around their upper arm as a tourniquet. Daniel can see the end of the bone, fractured off unevenly. He isn’t sure what to actually _do_  about that, so he settles for gathering the supplies to clean it.

Shai wakes up all at once, practically shrieking their outrage, when Daniel empties the better part of a bottle of bourbon over the stump. It’s the only noise they make for a few moments as Daniel bandages it, before they finally say, “You should take the other arm off.” They sound slightly foggy, though Daniel can’t really fault them for it.

He offers a bemused look, to which Shai responds by flexing their claws in the air. “You have a nice couch. You would be sad if I shredded it.”

Slowly, Daniel nods and unstraps the contraption. He leaves it on his dining table, well out of the way of…just about anything that could come near it. Shai is out cold again by the time he gets back to the couch.

They sleep fitfully, twitching every so often, and Daniel concedes that the risk to his couch was probably real. As it is, he can hear the first church bells chiming by the time he’s satisfied that Shai isn’t going to spontaneously drop dead.

In the silence, he muses to himself, “You came to  _me_.” And he’s not quite sure of how to feel about that, but it feels big. Abruptly, he decides he needs a drink. Shai will wake up eventually, and they’ll probably want one, too.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: mild drunkenness
> 
> this one takes place immediately after chapter nine. that one made Nicxan cry and I wrote fluff to make up for it. and let's be real, I can write about these two all day long.

Neither of them are really drunk. They’re both sort of drunk, of course, but scarcely anything that would even make living four stories above ground more dangerous. Tipsy, more like. Just enough so for Shai to have been afflicted with a most potent case of the drunken snugglies. They’re a warm weight against Daniel’s shoulder, face partially tucked against his neck. They watch from the corner of one eye as Daniel knits.

“This can’t be that interesting,” Daniel points out finally, though it’s not actually an objection.

“Sort of hypnotizing,” Shai answers pleasantly. “Besides, you’re the one who forbid me from going home.”

“You are  _missing an arm_ ,” Daniel reminds them firmly. “You’ll catch…gangrene or the plague or something from that water.”

“Only part of an arm,” Shai protests. The stump is in a sling that is actually an obnoxiously bright scarf. “And I know exactly where I lost it.” As if they’re conceding a point, they acknowledge, “Granted, it’s probably not there anymore.”

“Look,” Daniel sighs, yarn lowering to his lap. “You have all the good sense of a stewed mushroom. Knowing you, you’ll dive off the dock just to see what it’s like.”

If he is aware of the fact that, from anyone else, Shai would disregard anything that so much as stank of an order, well, he doesn’t bring it up.

“I have always been curious about the drownies,” Shai muses, in a tone that implies they are saying it purely to get a reaction.

Daniel smacks them with half a skein of yarn.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: none, I don't think
> 
> so, Shai works for Hell. Dan makes a hobby out of robbing the Brass Embassy to steal contracts. on one occasion, Dan stole what would have been Shai's payment for the week, so Shai didn't get paid. it was a learning experience.  
> this takes place after chapter three but before chapter four.

When Daniel gets home, everything is…off. In a very literal way. Everything has been moved a meter to the right. Even things that were sitting on the kitchen counter, leaving them sitting instead on the floor.

There is a note on the table, which has also been moved a meter to the right.

‘ _My rent money would be appreciated. And I raided your pantry. Cheers._ ’

Rather subdued, given the writer. Daniel shuffles in place for a moment, studiously avoiding looking at the note a second time. Finally, he heaves a sigh, drags a hand down his face, and then throws his hands up in exasperation.

“We playin’ charades or somethin’?” a rat mumbles, sitting on the table and basking in the lamplight that usually never reaches it.

“Not a bleedin’ clue, mate,” a second rat answers, idly polishing a rock it found in the gutter. Neither of them say anything as Daniel hurries back out of the house.

——

Daniel raps his knuckles against the side of the steamer. It doesn’t really have a door to knock on. It sets the ravens to squawking, and Shai makes their way up from below deck a moment later. They have to damn near bend double as they do.

Claws curling around the edge of the aft, Shai leans over. Their eyebrows raise expectantly. “A visitor for li’l ol’  _me_? How  _quaint_.”

Daniel can already feel the flare of guilt waning, and he shoves an envelope at Shai’s chest. Shai catches it before it can fall into the drownies’ territory. They peer into it for a second before folding it and tucking it into their vest.

“Ooh, fun. Smells like guilt.”

Dan reaches across the gap to backhand their shoulder. “Don’t be an ass. Just—I gave them to the CVR. You got their weight in echoes.”

There is a rather pregnant pause. Shai blinks at him slowly. Reaches into their pocket with one hand, while the other pinches the bridge of their nose between two knuckles.

“Daniel. Danny boy. Dear.” Shai sighs and pulls their hand from their pocket. “That’s where they were  _going_ , you canoe.” Swinging it like a yo-yo, they bean Daniel in the forehead with a pocket watch.

Daniel squawks and hops back a step. “How was I supposed to know that!” he demands, and it sounds more like an affronted yelp. “You never said anything!”

“You’re as subtle as a beached drownie about this CVR stuff!” Shai retorts, throwing their hands up, pocket watch dangling from one thumb. “I figured you knew who was in it! More to the point, I figured you wouldn’t  _immediately steal my payment_  upon seeing that it was mine.”

Daniel opens his mouth to respond. Closes his mouth. Opens it again. Pauses. And then closes his mouth so his teeth click together.

Shai’s eyebrows rise. “How about I collect my own payment in your honor from now on, hm?” they suggest, planting their hands on their hips.

Daniel folds his arms over his chest, shoulders rounding almost petulantly. “Yes, fine, you’ve made your point.”

Shai grins and slumps, elbows lending on the edge of the aft so they can prop their chin up in their hands. “Lovely. Will you be joining me for dinner? It did come from your pantry, after all.”

Slowly, Daniel sighs, and then hops onto the steamer’s deck.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: mentions of semi-public sex
> 
> so, Dan has a husband. his name is also Alex. (yes, it gets a little confusing, which mostly leads to Shai saying 'my Alex' when talking about their dead fiance). Shai has not actually spoken to Dan's Alex, but he HAS opened up a closet to find the two of them making out in there.  
> as it turned out, they inadvertently wound up gunning for the same glim shipment. so Shai closed the closet, stole the glim, and left a note that said ' _EW?_ ' for them to find.  
> this takes place after chapter four, but before chapter five.

Someone has been on the steamer. Shai only knows because Victus wakes up from where she's been napping across their shoulders, her nose twitching before she flips an ear in their direction and remarks, “Smells like Danny. An’…some’un else? I’unno.” The end of her tail flicks rapidly back and forth before she falls back to sleep. The life of a kitten is endlessly complicated.

Shai hops onto deck, reaching up to steady Victus with one hand as they do. They don’t think much of the intrusion at first. It’s less  _common_  for Daniel to invite himself over unannounced, but it’s hardly unheard of. At least until they see the note on their table, held in place with a bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around the neck. The wine is worth next to nothing compared to the shipment of glim they…liberated, the same shipment that they are already about ninety percent sure is long gone.

With a slow, deep sigh, they check anyway, nose wrinkling when they find it missing. Finally, they turn their attention to the note.

Daniel’s handwriting is familiar.

‘ _REALLY? You see me with my husband and your first thought is EW? WERE YOU RAISED IN A SEWAGE PIPE?’_

Shai covers their mouth with one hand to mask a snort, though the motion wakes Victus back up anyway. She tangles a paw in their hair and gives it an indignant tug before she hops down to curl up on the table. She is shaped like a bread loaf and out cold again in seconds.

At the bottom of the note, in less familiar writing, is a brief addendum.

‘ _Thanks for at least not ruining the mood right then and there._ ’

Shai leans their weight on one hand on the table, the other hand over their face as they snigger. A moment passes, and then two, before they flip the note over and scrawl out their reply.

——

There is half a bottle of wine on the table when Daniel gets home, sitting beside a paper swan with a ribbon around its neck. One of the rats is tugging warily on the ribbon until Daniel ushers her away. He picks the swan up, pulling the ribbon loose before he unfolds the bird.

Shai’s inelegant scrawl is on the back of the note.

‘ _The ‘ew’ was directed at the UNWASHED STORAGE CLOSET THAT YOU WERE GETTING NAKED IN, you canoe. The occupants were perfectly pretty. I’m offended.’_


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: self-negligence, brief/vague panic attack
> 
> this takes place after chapter seven

The steamer is home. It is theirs. It isn’t necessarily  _private_ , but it is theirs, and it is  _supposed to be home_.

They can see from the dock that it is…less so, that evening.

Ashley is sitting at the table on the deck, hands laced together on top of the table. Just from their posture, it’s obvious that Ashley is as changed as Shaicarus. It has been…a long time. Ashley is watching them, and they walk closer to the steamer without telling their feet to do so. They stop just shy of getting on the ship.

“…Hello, Shai.” It is Ashley who speaks first. Their voice is rougher. “I missed you.”

“Could have fooled me.” The words leave their mouth unbidden. Ashley flinches, but Shai can’t bring themself to feel guilty just then. Their ears are ringing. Their mouth feels dry and their eyes burn. They take a step back, only to bump into Dresden. The assassin grabs their shoulder to steady them.

“Oh,” Ashley observes quietly. “Dresden. I’m glad to see you’re still around.”

“Lord Kitseal,” Dresden greets cautiously, hand still tight on Shai’s shoulder.

Their ears are ringing, and suddenly the air of the docks feels stifling, as if it is as thick as the oily sheen over the water. Shai shrugs off Dresden’s hand, turns, and bolts. They can hear both Ashley and Dresden calling them, but they keep moving.

——

When Daniel checks the steamer, it has been twelve days since he last saw Shai. There have been no notes. No unexpected visits. No trinkets left on the window sill for the origins to be puzzled over. They’ve disappeared without a word. As much as Daniel knows that Shai can take care of themself on most days, he can’t deny that he’s a little concerned.

But Shai isn’t at the steamer when Daniel gets there. The imp, the ravens, the bat, and the cat are there, but when Daniel questions Victus, she just sneezes at him and hides below deck.

He tries the townhouse next. It’s bustling with activity, between the kids and the caretakers, but Shai is still nowhere to be seen and none of the nurses have seen them in days.

Two days later, he decides to take a different tack.

——

When Daniel knocks on the cottage door, it swings open at his touch. “Shai?” he calls, but he gets no answer. Carefully, he steps inside and closes the door behind himself.

He can hear movement in the main room, and he follows the sound cautiously. He can’t say he’s surprised when he finds Shai there. It’s more the state that Shai is in that surprises him. They’re paler than usual, and they look as if they haven’t had anything but tea, coffee, and alcohol for at least a few days. They’re moving their arms and their prosthetic leg with a visible effort, but moving all the same, as if stopping will let something catch up.

They haven’t noticed Daniel yet, attention too focused on the wall in front of them. They’ve shoved all their furniture aside, to instead tack pages with the characters of the Correspondence on them to the wall. Parts of the wall and the rug are burnt, and there are singed edges on their arms. There’s a half-empty pitcher of water to the side, beside a half-empty wine bottle.

They move to and fro, moving and reordering symbols, until at last Daniel clears his throat. Shai whirls to face him so quickly that their artificial ankle buckles, and they wind up sitting on the floor.

“Oh. Hello, Danny,” they offer, dazed and placid. They’re wearing their goggles, at least, but blood is flowing freely from their nose. Daniel’s not even going to try to guess at how long they’ve been staring at the Correspondence.

“You’ve been gone for two weeks,” Daniel points out, lowering to a crouch. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it, and Shai takes it without complaint, dabbing it carefully to their nose with two knuckles.

“Only that long?” they muse, breezy and fuzzy. “It felt rather longer, honestly.”

Daniel sighs and squeezes the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Who’s been teaching your class?” he asks, already tired with the situation.

“It’s the semester break,” Shai replies, distracted, their attention already drifting back to the wall that Daniel has been carefully avoiding looking at. He catches their chin before they can drift off.

“What about your animals, then?” he tries.

“Dresden and Adelaide have them well in hand,” Shai assures him. To their credit, their attention stops wandering, at least for the moment. “They’ll let me know if there’s a problem.”

Daniel sighs and finally pushes the goggles up, settling them on top of Shai’s head. Their eyes are wild and slightly dazed. “Shai,” he sighs, though he doesn’t get any further than that.

“Don’t get that  _tone_  with me,” they grouse, cutting him off. “I do actually process that I’m hopeless, but I don’t need that tone.”

Daniel sits back, staring for a second. “You aren’t hopeless.”

“Danny.” It’s a bland deadpan.

Daniel holds his hands up. “We’re not having this conversation now,” he decides. “I’m not sure you’ll remember it anyway. Just tell me why you’re here.”

“Well I couldn’t stay at the  _steamer_ ,” Shai replies, as if that makes all the sense in the world. “And I couldn’t go to the townhouse. It takes all of ten minutes of gossip to find out where it is. Besides the kids don’t need—“ They gesture expansively to the wall of pages before letting their hand fall heavily to the floor. More to themself than to Daniel, they carry on, their voice a low murmur. “Granted, I’ve had this place for a rather long time. I suppose they already know about it and they’re just taking their sweet time to show up.”

“But  _who_?” Daniel asks, exasperation creeping into his tone.

“Oh.” Shai blinks at him. “Ashley turned back up. They were waiting for me on the steamer. And then I had…well, it wasn’t my finest moment. And then I packed a bag at the townhouse and came here.”

Daniel stares at them. “Ashley,” they repeat after a moment, and Shai’s chin dips once in a nod. “As in, left without warning, gibberish note, empty townhouse Ashley,” he adds, as if Shai has ever mentioned any other Ashley. Shai simply nods once more.

Daniel is still turning that new detail over in his mind when Shai admits, “I don’t want to speak with them, Danny. Perhaps some people would seek closure, but I closed it myself already.”

“They aren’t at your steamer,” Daniel points out, for lack of anything else to say on the topic. “You could go home.”

“They could come back,” Shai argues, but it’s a weak argument and they probably know it.

Daniel snorts and rolls his eyes. “Victus would win in a fight right now, Shai. I can get you out that door.”

Shai scowls, but there’s no heat behind it, and it seems more like they’re sulking. Finally, they pick themself up off of the floor. “Fine,” they grouse. “It’s not going to be quick, though. I dropped my cane at the docks. I suspect Dresden has it.”

With a beatific smile, Daniel offers an arm. Shai leans on his shoulder just to spite him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: brief panic, 
> 
> I wanted to explore how Shai goes about...being a friend, so I told Nicxan I was gonna write about Shai and Dan being nerds who care about each other and she made a '=D' face. so here it is.  
> it takes place after chapter thirteen.

He hasn’t slept since the trip to Mutton Island. Shai knows this because Danny tells them so, and when Shai offers to help, Danny simply asks them to keep watch for the night. It’s a simple enough favor, and Shai pulls up a chair and grabs a book.

Daniel sleeps like the blemmigan in the cottage’s fireplace, limbs in all directions. Shai is sort of surprised he doesn’t fall off the bed, but they’re not going to question it, even if they do suddenly pity his husband.

The night is quiet at first. It isn’t until a few hours later that Danny starts to shift in his sleep. Shai glances up over the edge of their book. They can make a few guesses about what Danny’s dreaming about; they’ve heard enough hints about what happened at zee.

They turn their attention back to their book, humming a tune as they do. A light and mild melody, slow and calming. Danny calms soon enough, though Shai keeps humming for a little while longer.

Neither of them sleep well. It would be a shame to wake him up if they don’t need to.

——

They haven’t slept since the trip to Mutton Island. Daniel knows this both because it’s obvious, and because Shai has done little more than ramble semi-incoherently about the Masters and the Bazaar ever since Daniel saw their head disappear beneath the water.

Daniel offers to help. To keep watch, in case nightmares creep up, as they so commonly do. Seems the least he can do.

Shai sleeps like they’re trying to disappear, curled into a ball with the stumps of their forearms pulled tight to their chest and knees drawn up. Daniel is pretty sure he could poke them with a knife and the tension would break the blade, but that’s not an overall surprising observation.

When they start twitching, Daniel glances only briefly at the jug of water that Shai offered full permission to douse them with, before deciding that’s maybe a little drastic. Instead, he tugs a hand through Shai’s curls until the twitching stops, and then he turns his attention back to his knitting.

——

Danny tries to avoid owing people. Keeps those sorts of deals to things that can be paid for on the spot, or limits them to people who won’t expect payment. Shai knows this, though they’ve never given it much thought.

At least not until they excused themself from lunch for two minutes to pass something off to a courier, only to return and find a handsome salt-and-peppered man leaning on the table. He’s smiling and he sounds pleasant enough, but Danny has the glazed look of Shai’s students when they don’t understand a lecture.

Seamlessly, they settle themself back in their seat and lean an elbow on the table. They prop their chin up in one hand and smile, slow and toothy and shark-like. “Who’s your friend, Daniel?” they ask sweetly, gaze locked on the older gentleman. “Have I heard of him?”

“No one important,” Danny replies blandly, reaching up to massage his temples.

The man looks like he’s going to protest, but Shai’s smile sharpens and their hand on the table flexes. Their claws click against the surface. “Are we sure?” they ask mildly, looking up at the man through their lashes.

The man clears his throat and offers a sullen, “Just wanted to stop by. If you’re busy, we can catch up later.”

Danny waves with one hand without looking up from his tea.

——

Shai’s history with Ashley is…known, to put it mildly. As is Ashley’s return, even if the circumstances of their… _sabbatical_  remain a mystery. Ashley themself was never one for much gossip, but that doesn’t stop other people. And currently, Shai is surrounded, their Veilgarden gaggle gushing and giggling about how  _pleased_  they must be. One of them makes a raucous joke, wondering how vigorous the welcome home was, and Shai’s laugh is delayed and sounds more like they’re covering a sinus cough. Their grin looks more like some of Jack’s work.

They look like a rat trying to barter with the Starveling Cat.

“We’re going to be late,” Daniel gripes, before hooking an arm around one of Shai’s elbows and trudging onwards. Shai stumbles two steps after him before finding their footing, calling a laughing apology over their shoulder.

They round the corner, and Daniel comes to a halt so abruptly that Shai nearly walks into him. Turning, he tugs Shai’s cane from their hand and replaces it with—

“This is a snow globe,” they observe blankly.

“Yes. I was going to sell it later.”

“And I’m supposed to do…what, with this, exactly?”

“Well if you break your good cane, you’ll be upset,” Daniel reasons. “And if you punch the wall, you’ll break your hand, and still be upset.”

“Ah.” Shai stares contemplatively at the snow globe for a few seconds, before hurling it full force at the ground and watching it shatter into sand. “Much obliged.”

——

The wind is howling, though they still don’t know where it comes from. It builds up…somewhere beyond the zee and whistles and roars its way back to London. Shai tends not to give it much thought. Danny gives it…an increasingly worrying amount of thought.

The wind is howling, and Danny is standing at the edge of the rocks, their brief expedition forgotten. His eyes are closed and he’s listening like the building weather is trying to speak to him. Like it’s calling his name.

Shai isn’t sure why, but something tightens in their chest. Nerves draw taut, and they grab Danny’s elbow. Danny snaps back to the moment like he’s being dropped back into his skin from a great height, blinking owlishly up at Shai like he’s forgotten where he is.

Shai musters up a smile, wry and expectant. “Am I that dull?” they wonder, bringing a hand to their chest. “Danny, I’m hurt. Positively wounded.”

Danny rolls his eyes like nothing happened and elbows them in the ribs. “Oh, right, you’re absolutely destroyed that you need to repeat yourself. You just hate talking, after all.”

Shai scoffs and settles a hand on Danny’s shoulder as they keep walking, light and deceptively casual for all that it’s meant to keep Danny’s attention from drifting again.

——

Shai can get a touch…focused. It’s a quirk Daniel has accepted. He still isn’t sure what brings it about, but he’ll know when Shai wants him to know. Until then, he can at least check in when Shai fails to make an appearance for more than a couple days.

They’re at the cottage again. Their pacing, this time, is accompanied by the blemmigan, which is carrying a pitcher of water in one tentacle. Every so often, Shai pats it on its…cap, and it makes a noise like a pigeon being slowly flattened.

Their nose is bleeding and they have the wild-eyed look of someone who hasn’t slept since the dawn of time, though only a quarter of the wall is covered in Correspondence characters this time. It’s an improvement.

They tack another page up after a great deal of thought, and it bursts into flames.

“Holy fuck!” Daniel shouts, leaping back a step.

Shai whirls to face him, with a cheerful, “Danny!” as if the wall has not spontaneously combusted. Calmly, the blemmigan throws water at the wall. The room smells like parchment that is simultaneously damp and smoldering.

“Shaicarus Ilthanuel, you have not eaten in three days, and you’re going to get cleaned up and come to lunch,” Daniel replies, straightening his coat after the brief startle. It’s very calm. Shai never responds well to loud orders.

They open their mouth to argue, only to decide that they probably shouldn’t try it once their full name has been uttered. Daniel probably can pick them up and definitely won’t feel guilty about it. They give the blemmigan another pat before heading towards the washroom.

——

They’re both in the Forgotten Quarter. It’s quiet, but they aren’t quite deep enough for anyone to bother interrupting them. Shai isn’t there for valuables. They’re there for evidence.

(“You don’t have to come,” they had pointed out. “This isn’t likely to be dangerous.”

“You hate dealing with this alone,” he had argued.

“Well, yes,” they had agreed. They weren’t quite sure why that was relevant. Danny had just looked very sad at them.)

Danny hesitates when Shai starts to take a dilapidated, winding staircase downwards. They have no idea where it leads, but Shai knows the mystery isn’t what’s giving him pause. They light what remains of the sconces along the stairwell with a candle as they descend, and Danny jogs after them.

At the bottom of the stairwell, the air is stale and dust hangs like a cloud. They cough into the crook of their elbow and glance over their shoulder at Danny. He’s just making it to the bottom of the stairs, and Shai turns back around. They hold the dwindling candle higher to see just a bit farther down the crumbling corridor.

They see the shadow of legs, numerous and hairy. They go very still before they roll their shoulders, feeling the weight of their rifle shift.

“Danny. Go back up the stairs.” The words come out very calm. “Just trust me on this.”

“…Right.”

They wait until they hear Danny’s steps retreating up the stairs before they drop the candle and grab their rifle. They take aim at where the shadow had lurked and fire, and the spider shrieks before landing with an audible thump on the stone below.

And then Danny makes a noise like a strangled horse and practically tumbles back down the stairs. He lands in a heap at the bottom as Shai turns to look, baffled. He simply points back upwards, eyes wide, hand shaking slightly. There’s a scuttling sound, and then the sconces go out all at once. The corridor is plunged into darkness.

“Shai—“ Danny’s voice is strangled, and Shai jogs the few steps back towards the stairs.

“Right here.” They curl a hand around his shoulder as they crouch. “All in one piece?”

“I-I-I—I think—“

“Do a bit less of that just now,” Shai advises, grabbing his wrist and straightening back up, pulling Danny to his feet as they do. “Stay close.”

Danny holds tight to their wrist as they both begin to climb again. It makes using the rifle something of an impossibility just then, but Shai isn’t exactly going to demand their hand back. Besides, they’re never actually weaponless.

Luck is on their side, though. Whatever snuffed out the sconces seems to have left it at that, and there’s no sign of anyone waiting for them as they get back to the top of the stairs, back to the light of the quarter. Danny sighs out a relieved breath, forehead thumping against the middle of Shai’s back.

“Still in one piece?” they wonder again, peering over their shoulder.

Danny laughs, quiet and slightly hysterical. “Still in one piece,” he answers, nodding stiffly. They’re still standing close enough that Shai can feel the motion through their jacket.

They don’t bother to disentangle their hand from Danny’s before they start walking, towing him unprotestingly along.

“We don’t have to call it quits just yet,” he offers after a few moments. It’s not entirely unconvincing.

“Danny,” Shai sighs, fondly exasperated. “You’re two inches away. I can tell when you’re shaking like a leaf.”

He doesn’t seem to have an excuse for that, and he doesn’t bother trying to make one, even if he does head butt the back of Shai’s shoulder in protest.

——

Daniel has seen Shai nervous. Concerned. Uncomfortable. Irritated. Frustrated. Self-destructive. A motley assortment of things, really.

But this is different. He just can’t quite put his finger on what it is.

“What was that?” they ask, for the third time in as many minutes.

Daniel sighs, slow and heavy. “Is this a bad time?” he asks. “We can always do this later.”

“No, no,” Shai interrupts hurriedly, something like panic swiftly buried under the words. Their grip on their mug tightens, claws creaking against the metal. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” They trail off, seemingly at a loss for words to describe what’s bothering them.

“…Shai?” Daniel coaxes, actual concern beginning to rear its head.

“Just a bad dream, is all,” they finally reply, looking at their mug like their coffee is fascinating. They glance up long enough to offer a crooked smile. “You know how it goes.”

Daniel isn’t convinced. “Then tell me about it,” he replies. “Seems to help most of the time.”

Shai comes up short for a moment, grip on their mug tightening again. “I’m…not sure you would really understand where I was coming from,” they try after a moment. It’s not their strongest excuse.

Daniel’s eyebrows rise. “Try me.”

There’s a series of clicking as they tap two fingers against the mug. “It was just…shouting, is all. Me, I mean. Shouting. I think I was trying to see if anyone would hear me…” They trail off for a second, like their thoughts are already a thousand miles away. “Or if anyone would answer,” they add, like it’s an afterthought.

Daniel’s expression softens slightly.

“Don’t give me that look,” Shai grouses sullenly, shoulders rounding as they hunch over the table.

“I’m allowed to worry when you’re upset,” Daniel points out easily.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” they argue, and the table shakes slightly as they start tapping one heel against the floor. “I’m not upset.”

Daniel doesn’t buy it for a second, and doesn’t rise to the bait. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but you know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

Shai stills for a moment, and then two. And then they smile, soft and crooked. “You can’t know that,” they point out, and a quiet laugh follows. “I haven’t the foggiest idea of why you put up with me, do you know that?” They look almost immediately stricken, as if they hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. Their expression goes blank a second later, their pleasantly neutral default settling into place.

And this, Daniel doesn’t know how to deal with. He doesn’t know how to fix it. But he knows Shai. He gets to his feet and catches Shai’s elbow, giving them a tug. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” they sigh, like they’ve decided Daniel is simply humoring them.

“Hell if I know,” Daniel answers, still towing them along. “The docks, probably.  _You_  need to get out of the city for a couple days, and I have the means.”

There’s a breath of incredulous laughter behind him, before Shai gives up on resisting and lets Daniel pull them along the streets.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: recreational drug use, implied unrequited feelings
> 
> there's a card in the game that lets you share a honey dream with someone, and I drew it, and of course Shai had to share it with Dan. they offered to use it as a chance to show Dan something at least similar to the surface world, since Dan doesn't remember it.  
> I was pestering people for writing prompts, and Nicxan told me I should write about that honey dream.  
> ...d'you ever have a moment where you're writing, and the characters just...tell you something?  
> this was Shai informing me they've got it bad for their best friend.  
> this takes place...roughly at the same time as chapter fourteen.

‘Sheepish’ is not a feeling that comes easily to Shai, who infrequently has any shame to spare. And yet, such is the case as they make their offer, the honey jar held carefully in one hand. Perhaps they should check to see if drownies have started flying.

All for naught, though. Danny hardly needs to think about it before he agrees, nodding rapidly and latching onto Shai’s free arm.

“Where are we going?”

They grin down at him and start walking. “The townhouse. The upper floor is still mine to do with as I please, and I figure that will be easier than trying to get you to relax in a honey den.” Their grin turns beatific as Danny hip-checks them. “And this way I can dress down for the occasion.”

It’s a brief trip back to the townhouse; they weren’t far to begin with, and Danny is practically vibrating with anticipation and not inclined to dawdle. He only slows once they’re both inside because an urchin nearly runs right into him. The girl grinds to a halt at the last instant.

“Oh. Nev’ mind. Jus’ you.”

“That’s rude,” Shai reminds her blandly, already heading towards the stairs.

“Fuck off, Prof!” she calls after them, and Shai can hear Danny barely managing to strangle a burst of laughter into silence.

“You fuck off,” Shai returns merrily. “I will haunt you after I’m gone.”

“Ya awready do!” she hollers at their back, before scampering off again. Shai pays her no more attention and keeps walking, glancing over their shoulder only to make sure that Danny is still following. He’s a few steps behind, looking amused and perplexed in equal measure. Shai dredges up the most innocent smile they can manage and keeps moving.

Their private suite is on the third floor, right by the stairs. They lead the way through a sitting room that’s still stuffier than they would really like it to be, and into a considerably more relaxed study. There’s a desk and an abundance of bookshelves, to be sure, along with evidence that something has caught on fire in the recent past. But there’s also a couch and a daybed on one side of the room, plus a pile of cushions in a corner.

Danny’s looking around curiously when Shai grabs his shoulders and pushes him back onto the daybed. He lands with a bounce and a snort of laughter before he asks, “So, what now?”

Shai hands over the small jar and unlatches the stabilizer bands for their arms. As they do, they explain, “Pour some into the lid, and take three drops. No more than that; best not to get ahead of ourselves.”

If Danny looks a little dubious as he follows the instructions, Shai doesn’t feel inclined to mention it, instead pulling one arm off and dropping it on the floor. Danny is watching with open interest, honey quickly forgotten, but he’s fading fast already. He’s out cold by the time Shai grabs the lid of the jar.

They take their three drops and set the jar lid aside, cast one last glance at Danny practically melted on the daybed, and then lean down and catch the edge of their second arm under the edge of the couch. With a jerk, they pull their forearm from it and let the arm fall to the floor. The study is starting to go hazy at the edges, so they waste no time in getting comfortable and instead simply collapse sideways before their eyes close.

——

It starts softly, the beginnings of what looks to be a parlor materializing around them, before it abruptly bursts into multicolored sand and reforms into something else entirely. By the time the world takes shape, they’re standing in what looks to be a courthouse.

“It was the first thing that came to mind,” Shai offers, shrugging broadly at the bemused look Daniel slides in their direction. Not strictly the truth, if that half-formed glimpse of a parlor is anything to go by, but true enough. Close enough for sea shanties, at any rate.

Besides, there’s a more pressing distraction that becomes very apparent as Shai’s hands settle on their hips.

“Arms,” Daniel observes intelligently, blinking at the very much flesh-and-blood arms, the hands covered only with leather riding gloves. One gloved hand flies up to cover Shai’s mouth as they burst out laughing.

“The look on your face,” they snigger, speaking through their fingers. “Yes. Arms. I still had them until I went to London, and when I’m asleep I still have them, too.”

Daniel blinks, and nods slowly. When Shai starts walking, Daniel follows.

No one notices them. No one says a word. Crowds part silently around them as they walk, as if they’re simply part of the scenery. And then they come to a door and step outside, and Daniel grinds to a halt. He has to shield his eyes for a moment; it’s so bright he swears his eyes are going to burn out of his head. Shai waits a few steps away until Daniel can lower his hand away from his face.

Cautiously, Daniel takes a few more steps, and he sucks in a breath.

It’s…colorful. The light is white and there’s a sky above, overcast and silvered with clouds but still  _so bright_. There are glimpses of blue between the clouds, though, and it’s a shade not quite like any he’s seen before. Not like sapphires or glim or glass, and it looks like it goes on forever.

And there’s  _green_. Grass and shrubs and trees, and so many other colors from flowers dotted amongst the green like they’re trying to show off. Ignoring the city—he’s seen a city, he knows what a city is—he takes off into the grass at a sprint.

It gives under his boots in a way that cobblestone never will, and his arms pinwheel at his sides for a second before he catches his balance and keeps moving. He hasn’t  _forgotten_  Shai’s presence, but he knows Shai will catch up in their own time.

When he finally slows to a halt, he has to double over with his hands on his knees, each breath heaving from his chest like he’s never taken one before. He knows when Shai catches up when their boots and their cane step into view, but it’s a few moments before he can straighten back up.

Shai is smiling at him when he does, soft and fond. Then they clear their throat, the expression sliding away, and take a seat on the nearest rock outcropping. “Thoughts so far?”

They’re probably expecting an answer, but instead Daniel’s attention is snagged by something growing amongst the rocks. It’s a muted magenta and yellow, almost bell-shaped, growing in a row along a long, straight stalk.

“What is this?” he asks, dropping to his knees to look at it. “I mean, I know it’s a flower, but—“

“Helleborine, I believe,” Shai supplies, leaning down to get a look. They straighten back up a moment later. “I have something more exciting to show you, though.” They plant a hand on Daniel’s shoulder for balance before levering themself back to their feet. “Come along.”

They’re walking already, and Daniel practically trips back to his feet and lopes after them. Back towards buildings and cobbled roads and civilization.

It looks remarkably like London, if he just imagines it all in shades of brown and lit only by lamplight. For one particular street, it doesn’t even taken much imagination.

The clouds are heavier over that street, and there are no lights on in any of the visible windows. There are no crowds. No trees or flowers. Just houses long abandoned. He slows, head cocked curiously to one side.

“What’s down there?” Daniel asks, staring down the lightless street. Shai settles a hand against his back, between his shoulders, and steers him along.

“That’s not a street I walk down,” they answer simply. Daniel leaves it at that.

It’s not a particularly short walk from there, and Shai’s hand doesn’t fall away until they’re approaching the end of it. After cobbled streets have once again given way to grass and stone and fuzzy yellow flowers, and past them until the ground gives up entirely. There’s a steep plunge downwards, to rocks and sand, and there’s a familiar roaring noise, recognizable even from so far above it.

Daniel stares down at the ocean, the waves crashing against the rock and the cliff-face. The water is so dark it’s nearly black, save for where it froths white at the crests of the waves. For a moment, Daniel wants to simply jump. As it is, he’s  _asleep_. But he doesn’t understand the logic of honey dreams enough to risk it, and his hands clench into fists at his sides as he holds himself back.

There’s a storm building in the distance, far over the water, where the waves meet the horizon. The clouds gather thicker there, flashing blue and silver in stuttering increments. Too far out to hear the thunder, but he can’t find it in himself to be disappointed.

He should say something, probably, but he can’t think of anything to say other than ‘ _beautiful_ ’ and even that feels like it would be a bit trite. He settles, instead, for gaping at the view in silence, broken only by the rush and the crash of the waves below and the salted breeze whipping past his face.

The zee seems so much smaller, suddenly, and he’s not sure how to feel about that.

“Danny?” Shai wonders eventually, a note of something like concern creeping into their voice. Daniel jerks like he’s coming out of a trance, one hand rising to grab at the edge of Shai’s sleeve.

“I don’t remember any of this,” Daniel muses, looking around, slow and lingering. “I mean, I doubt I ever actually came here, but just—you know what I mean.” He feels nostalgic for something that he can’t remember having, like he’s trying to remember a good dream he had years ago.

For a split second, Shai looks unsure, though that look vanishes in an instant. But Daniel knows them. He slings an arm around their middle and tips sideways just enough to shove the side of his head against their arm.

“Thank you. This was—“ He can’t think of the words to describe what it means, and settles instead for a more emphatic, “ _Thank you_.” He gets a hum of quiet laughter in return.

Below, the sound of the ocean is fading away.

“I think we’re running out of honey,” Shai observes, as the world goes fuzzy at the edges and starts to split apart at its seams. Daniel turns in a rapid circle, just to absorb a moment more of it before it evaporates completely.

Shai curls a hand around the back of his neck and squeezes affectionately, and the dream dissolves into dust and shards of glass.

——

Shai wakes up first, and it’s to be expected, they suppose. They lever themself up onto their elbows, head falling back as they crack their neck. Blinking slowly, they lift their head to look in Danny’s direction. He’s only just beginning to stir, muscles of his face twitching before they scrunch and he cracks an eye open.

He makes a fuzzy noise— _nnnnnnnnnnn_ —and rolls over, burying his face against the pillow. It’s only when Shai snorts out an unsubtle laugh that he actually sits up.

He blinks a few times, staring at Shai for a drawn out moment. The gears in his head are ticking almost audibly. And then he launches himself across the room like he’s been flung out of a catapult. Shai squawks in surprise as Daniel crashes into them, flattening them against the couch. They laugh helplessly as Daniel clings like a limpet, latched on like he wants to strangle Shai rather than hug them.

“Dan—Danny—Danny, I have no arms right now,” they point out, words breaking around bemused laughter.

“It’s nowhere near as weird as you think it is, shut up,” Danny answers, not letting go. Shai doesn’t really have an argument for that, so they settle for curling what they have of their arms around Danny’s middle while he continues to nearly strangle them.

It takes a few minutes before he calms down, and Daniel blinks down at their position as he relinquishes his hold on Shai and sits up, as if he is only just realizing that he’s basically flung himself into Shai’s lap. Shai props themself up on their elbows again, and wonders wryly, “Well?”

They sort of expect a joke. Something to lighten the mood, even if the weight is a pleasant one for a change. Instead, Daniel stumbles out, “I just—I don’t know how—I— _thank you_.” His voice is unsteady by the end, and he lifts an arm to scrub one wrist vigorously across his eyes.

“Danny?” Shai asks, abruptly concerned. Danny just shakes his head quickly and ducks forward until his forehead thumps against one of Shai’s shoulders.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he mumbles. “It’s just…it’s a lot. To take in. You know?”

Shai hums a note in affirmation. “We can do it again,” they point out, tipping their head to one side enough to bump their forehead against Danny’s temple. “Whenever you want.”

“Might just take you up on that,” he muses quietly, sitting up slowly. “I already said it, but—thank you.”

Shai grins and leans up enough to bonk their foreheads together gently. They flop back down onto the couch. “That’s what I’m here for. Mostly bad ideas, but occasionally something worthwhile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what I do, maybe click [this link](https://notanicequeen.tumblr.com/post/167109895346/reminder)?  
> And if you wanna poke Shai on Fallen London, feel free. I shelled out the money for enough fate to change their name, so now they're officially Shaicarus Ilthanuel. I respond to things pretty exclusively in-character.


End file.
